Sympathetic Vibrations
by MissMelysse
Summary: They've been meeting every Saturday morning for music theory and practice. Sometimes, conversation ensues. (An out-take of sorts from my Data/OFC story CRUSH.) Friendship with maybe the merest hint of flirting. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine. (This story takes place between chapters 45 & 46 of my story "Crush.")_**

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><p><strong>Sympathetic Vibrations<strong>

"You are still a quarter-tone flat on the high-e," he tells her. "I do not believe the string is maladjusted; you will have to adjust your fingering to compensate."

He watches her slide her index-finger downward, toward the bridge of her cello, and then listen as she plays the note, and then the whole passage again. They have been rehearsing the duet, one written by a Vulcan composer, for the past two weeks, which has stretched their weekly Saturday Sessions (the capital letters are hers) from two hours to three.

Her cheeks, he notices, bear traces of glitter, and her finger-nails are painted purple. Both are signs that she was involved in some social ritual the previous evening. He wonders if she is tired, as her intonation is typically quite precise.

"You are still flat," he states, but he catches the crinkling of her eyebrows that signifies frustration, and hears the exasperated sigh, and adds, "but less so."

She plays the passage one more time, and looks to him for a response. He shakes his head, and says, "I am sorry, Zoe. The note is still flat."

"Android-flat or human flat?" she asks him. It is not an uncommon question from her. Similarly, his response is one he has given before:

"As I have explained to you on more than one occasion, there is no 'special android tuning.' You are either playing the correct note, or you are not."

"Data!" She turns his name into something between an exclamation and an expletive.

"Most humanoids would be equally unable to detect the aberration in your pitch," he allows. "Perhaps if we play it together once more, we can resolve the problem."

"Actually," she says, "could we take a break? I'm already frustrated and rapidly descending toward cranky."

"If you wish," he agrees, and then, because he has known her long enough to recognize at least some of her swift changes in mood, he asks, "Is it possible that you skipped breakfast this morning?"

She blushes, but he is uncertain why inquiring about her eating habits would trigger such a response. "More than possible," she tells him in the tone he has learned means she's embarrassed. "You know that night surfing holodeck program Reg gave me for my birthday?"

"I recall you telling me about it," he says. He had been scheduled for bridge duty the night of her birthday, but had presented her with a gift during their usual meeting time earlier in the day. She had joked about him polling his friends for ideas about what sort of present would be appropriate, and she had not been wrong. He had chosen the colors of the stones in the bracelet he'd selected as much because of their traditional meanings, as because he hoped the blues and greens would remind her of the ocean she loved so much. That much, he had told her. He had not told her that he thought those colors would contrast well with the tan of her skin. He had learned that such observations were too easily misinterpreted.

"We inaugurated it last night," she says. "Wes, Annette, Dana, Josh, Ray…he's a pretty decent surfer, by the way…we all got caught up in the waves and the moonlight and stayed out way beyond the time when we should've."

As second officer, and head of ship's operations, he is actually aware of exactly how many hours each of the _Enterprise_'s holodecks is in use, and by whom, but he refrains from commenting about it, saying only, "I do not understand how that prevented you from nourishing yourself."

"I kind of overslept," she tells him. "And I didn't have time. Besides," and her tone shifts into the one that he knows means she's teasing him, though he has also learned to discern that _her_ teasing is always affectionate, "I was more interested in coming here to bask in your presence and nourish my soul with music."

"Since you are obviously hungry, perhaps we should end today's session," he suggests, although, if pressed, he would confess that he does not truly wish to do so.

From the hint of disappointment in her voice, he suspects that she, also does not yet wish to leave. "Oh…I guess." Her brown eyes widen then, and her mouth curves into the smile that he thinks he would like to paint one day. "Or, you could share a spinach omelet with me, and then we could try the piece again."

He agrees to her suggestion.

Over the meal that she tells him is correctly referred to as _brunch_, he observes, "You have been spending a lot of time with Ensign Barnett lately."

Her response, between bites of omelet and sips of coffee (double cream, no sweetener), is a casual shrug. "Ray's nice," she says. "It's not serious, we're just hanging out."

"I was under the impression you and T'vek Mairaj were still involved," he does not know why this should matter. The Betazoid/Vulcan boy has been off the ship for nearly a month, transferred with his family to the _U.S.S. Berlin_.

"He met someone," she says tersely. "Anyway, we both knew it wasn't going to last."

"Because of the 'long distance thing?'"

"Well…that and because we're still in high school. Nobody stays with their high school boyfriend forever." She chews and swallows another bite of her omelet, then informs him casually, "The Tantalus Quartet is playing a concert on Cochrane's World the same week we're supposed to arrive there. Ray asked me to go with him, but I'm not sure if I should."

"You often refer to the Quartet as one of your favorite musical ensembles," he says. "Why would you decline an invitation?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready for… I'm a little nervous about being with a guy…it hasn't been that long since Starbase 416, and I'm concerned if we get…I'm worried I won't react well."

"Ah." He knows she is referring to the incident with his bro – with Lore – but he has often wondered if she omitted some of the details when relating the experience.

"And he doesn't like classical music _at all_, so I'd be sitting there knowing I was with someone who wasn't really enjoying himself."

"That _would_ be awkward," he agrees, because he has seen the disappointment in a date's eyes when his reaction to an experience was somehow…lacking.

"Do you think I'm too young for him?"

"For Ensign Barnett?"

"Yes. I'm sixteen…he's….twenty-two, I think. Is that weird?"

"It is not something I have considered." The unspoken truth is that when he is spending time with Zoe, he does not keep the fact that she is only sixteen in the forefront of his consciousness. They share an affinity for music, and he appreciates the way she never treats him like anything other than a person. There is an ease – a familiarity – in their time together that lessens his near-constant perception of being something _other. _

"Well…what do you think of him?"

"Do you wish an honest assessment?"

"I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't."

"Very well. I believe Ensign Barnett to be well-regarded by his superior officers, and well-liked by his peers. However, he has not shown the drive to excel that is typical of young officers who wish to advance to higher ranks. Unlike many other crewmembers of his age and rank, he usually favors the company of one woman for several weeks at – "

"So he's unexceptional and low-risk?" Her question interrupts his review of the ensign in question.

"I would not phrase it that way, but you are not inaccurate. A professional evaluation, however, would not seem to be of use to you. Are you not attracted to him?"

"He's…nice…but…he doesn't make my tummy flutter or anything."

"I…see?" But he does not truly understand what she means.

She sighs, and pushes away the plate that is now empty of all traces of omelet. "I guess I just feel a little lonely. It'd be nice to have someone to go to plays and concerts with."

"You have often attended such functions with a group of your friends."

"Yeah, but now everyone else is coupled up and I feel awkward and out of place. I mean. Wes has Annette. Dana and Josh finally started dating. I'm happy that my friends are happy, but…"

She leaves the table and goes to the couch, sitting cross-legged in her corner. (He has considered it _her corner_ for some length of time, but has never been entirely certain when it became so.)

He moves to clear the table, then stops himself, and joins her on the couch. The dishes can wait. His friend - _Zoe_ - clearly needs him. "While I cannot feel loneliness, I have noticed that I am often the 'odd man out' at social functions."

"Does it bother you?"

"It cannot 'bother' me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Do you wish me to respond to that inquiry, or were you being rhetorical?"

"Rhetorical. Sorry."

"There is no need to apologize."

She does not respond immediately, but just when the silence between them has stretched to an almost palpable length of time, she says. "You've never heard the Tantalus Quartet live."

"No," he agrees, "I have not."

"Their violist is a friend of my father's. She asked if I'd like to sit in on their rehearsal."

"I believe such an invitation would be considered 'quite an honor.'" He senses that she is circling toward a point, but is unsure of what it might be.

"They'd probably be willing to include you as well, if you were interested."

"I believe I would find working with musicians of their caliber to be…beneficial."

"I _know_ I would," she says. Again, she lapses into silence for several seconds. Finally she says, "Mom doesn't think it would be appropriate for me to go with Ray anyway, because it's off-ship."

"She has reason to be protective of you," he points out. He does not add that, he, too, had been concerned for her safety and well-being when she had disappeared (when Lore had lured her away). He does not share that he had come close to initiating a spontaneous hug with her, after she was back on the ship and safe, but aborted the action upon his realization of what she must have endured.

"I guess." Her pensive expression fades, and her bright smile returns. "You know, Data…she wouldn't object to an off-ship excursion if I went with you. I mean, I'm pretty sure she trusts _you_ not to seduce me or anything."

"Are you inviting me to attend the Tantalus Quartet's performance with you, next month, Zoe?"

She turns her face away from his gaze when she gives her answer, "Yeah, Data. I kind of am. Is that okay?"

He feels his lips curve into what passes as a pleased smile, for him. "I would be honored to escort you, Zoe," he tells her. "It is more than…okay."

"Cool." Her smile, he notices, has broadened to a grin.

In tandem, they leave the couch and return to their instruments. This time when they play the passage Zoe was having difficulties with before, her intonation is perfect.

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><p><strong>Notes: <strong>Parts of this have been rattling around my brain since January; but the timing was off. Originally, it was written from Zoe's point of view, but it felt too flirty for where we are in their story right now. Switching it to Data's POV gives seemed to make sense, since ALL of **Crush** is seen through Zoe's eyes.


End file.
